Harry Potter and the Return of the Phoenix
by Shark Byte
Summary: A little bird tells Harry that just maybe things are not as bad as they seem. Chapter 7: ROAD TRIP! Out to the countryside, in search of youknowwhat.
1. The Bird Who Spoke

**Harry Potter and the Return of the Phoenix**

A little bird tells Harry that just maybe things are not as bad as they seem.

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Chapter 1: **The Bird Who Spoke**

Harry Potter sat _alone_ in his room, staring _forlornly_ out his window into the darkness. As required by the protection charm, he was back at the _Dursleys_', for what he hoped would be the very **last** time **ever**

With a _smoldering rage_, he remembered the _final blow _that was dealt him as the Hogwarts Express pulled into London. Harry had been sitting in his train compartment, staring out at the passing scenery and listening to his snoring friends, when his sulking was interrupted by the _bumbling_ forms of _Crabbe _and _Goyle_as they **flung** open the door and, bouncing clumsily off of the doorframe, **charged right in**.

"**Levicorpus!**", Crabbe shouted. And before Harry could react, he was **hanging** by his **heel** in **midair**. Goyle grabbed Hedwig, still in his cage, and out they went, laughing with that _dumb-ox _"huhhuhhuh" laugh like the _mindless thugs _they _were_. And by the time Harry hit the floor, Crabbe, Goyle, and Hedwig were **gone**. They were nowhere to be found, either, as the train was unloading.

What they planned on _doing_ with Hedwig, Harry had yet to find out, and he cringed at the _depravities_ he imagined them committing upon the innocent owl. The most surprising thing was that those two _galoots_ had actually managed to **pull off **such a stunt, even if it _was_ a _simple_ one.

Without Hedwig, Harry wouldn't be able to send any **owl post**. And he doubted that his skill in apparating could get him safely all the way to the Weasley's. But Ron had promised to send for him as soon as transportation could be arranged. And then, Harry Potter would be able to get out of his _insufferable_ Aunt and Uncle's house for **good**.

But a _week_ had passed, and Harry was left _alone_ with his _darkening _thoughts: What if something had **happened**? What if the **Death Eaters **had struck, what if his friends were **dead**?His head swam nauseously with images of his _dismal_ future, _alone_, fated to hunt the _Dark Lord _until one finally finished the other. Was that all he had left to live for? A tear escaped his eye at the sheer _bleakness_ of it all.

And then in the **starry sky **he **saw** something. It was a **bird**. Harry's despair turned to **renewed hope **as the bird **soared **silhoutetted against the rising full moon, and turned towards his** open window**.

But **something** was just **not right**. This wasn't one of the Weasley's owls. In fact, it didn't look like an **owl** at **all**. Still, it was heading straight for his window. Harry's stomach **knotted** at a thousand possibilities. Maybe it **was** post, but from **whom? **Or maybe the bird was an** assasin **sent by **_Voldemort_**. Or maybe** Hermione **had become an **animagus**?

**Wait a minute! **It was **Fawkes!**

Before Harry could even **begin** to wonder what had brought the Headmaster's phoenix to his **windowsill**, the bird opened its beak, and to Harry's **amazement**, began to **speak.**

"Ah.", squawked the bird, "I see you have bothered to pack this time." Harry blinked **unbelievingly**. Apparently, Fawkes was there to escort him, just as Dumbledore had been a year earlier.

Had Dumbledore left **instructions** for his phoenix, or did Fawkes have **deeper** concerns? Harry would have asked, but somehow, it seemed rude to ask, and so he just stood there, looking at the phoenix which was now standing atop his fully-packed trunk. Fawkes held out his left leg. "Grab on; your friends await." And Harry did.

And **straight away**, Harry, Fawkes, and the trunk were all being pushed through the now-familiar airless tight rubber tube of **apparation**. They landed with a loud **"crack"**, right in front of Ron, who, in his surprise, almost dropped the plate of mashed potatoes he was carrying.

**"Harry!"**, shouted a beaming Hermione. **"'Ay mate!" **muffled Ron, talking with his mouth full of mashed potatoes. And then Harry heard the clomping as** Ginny **ran towards him. She gave him a **big hug**, but stopped short of snogging him.

All eyes then turned to the one they **hadn't **expected; the bird that was sitting atop Harry's trunk, patiently waiting to be noticed.

Ron seemed unsure of whether he **recognized** the bird. Or maybe he just couldn't believe it was there. "Is that... Fawkes?"

"Yeah, he came and **got** me", marvelled Harry, making a swooping gesture as though to indicate Fawkes' flight path. "He must've had instructions from Dum..." Harry stopped short, and turned **several shades **of **_embarrased_.** It hadn't been two weeks since Dumbledore's death, and Harry didn't mean to mention him in front of **Fawkes**.

Ron seemed oblivious to Harry's discomfort, and quickly broke the awkward silence. "You mean that **bird** apparated you **over **here?"

"He has a _name_, Ron", scolded Hermione. But her tone was not angry; it was sad. She was looking at Fawkes with an expression that clearly read pity. "Poor thing", she gushed with a tear in her eye as she remembered his haunting, melodic mouning song. "His master is **gone**. He must be **so** lost."

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And then **Fawkes** spoke up, shocking **nearly everyone**. "Not **entirely** lost, mind you, as he is **not entirely gone**. I believe I have some idea of what needs to be done next; we shall need a **pensieve**, for there are some **rather important things **that you four will need to **know** about."

Harry smiled semi-knowingly as Hermione and nearly the entire Weasley family gawked jaw-drop-googley-eyed at the talking bird, although it didn't seem to have registered yet with Mrs. Weasley that Fawkes was the one who had spoken. Or maybe it seemed to her a perfectly **ordinary thing** that a bird should be conversing in **plain english**. "We don't have any pensieves, but I have a **big mixing bowl** here." She set the bowl on the dining room table, and Fawkes landed beside it. And raising his talon to his head like a dog about to scratch for fleas, he pulled from his mind a **silver thread **of **memory**, depositing it into the big mixing bowl. "Join me in a trip down Memory Lane?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Fawkes all spaced themselves evenly around the table, and stuck their faces down into the **shimmering silver mist **(like I said, it was a **big** mixing bowl.)

Chapter **2** is to be, of course, a **pensieve** trip.


	2. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

**Chapter 2: Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil**

The remembered scene into which they fell was one of _chill winds_ and _pitch-black night_, with only the dim glow of a wand ("lumos") to see that it was **Fawkes **and** Dumbledore**, creeping silently into the neglected cemetary. Pushing through the weeds, they advanced upon the kudzu-covered monument which marked the grave of an obviously once-important aristocrat.

Fawkes circled the monument, surveying its weathered surface, and then perched himself upon a ledge partway up the monument, pointing at a statuette of what looked like a **house-elf **guarding a **small opening **in the side of the monument.

Dumbledore gazed intently at the statuette, and then at Fawkes. "Ah, you've found him." Dumbledore then tapped the small statuette with his wand, and uttered a spell he had learned decades ago as an exchange student in Canada: **"Quando Omni Flunkus Moratati!"**

And with a _ghastly groan_, the statuette **lay down **as though **dead**, allowing access to the chamber behind it. It contained only **one** item. "**There it is**.", whispered Albus, shining his light onto a small covered pale gray pot made of carved stone. What it most resembled was an incense burner.

"**That was the horcrux, wasn't it?**", blurted Hermione. Ron shot her a glance that clearly remembered her earlier scolding. "Patience, Mione; he'll show us what it is." Fawkes shook his head. "At the time, we **both** thought the horcrux was within the incense burner, but things turned out a bit more **complicated** than that."

As the memory continued, Dumbledore then pulled from his pocket a small vial of **blue goop**, and dipped the tip of his wand into it. And from the wandtip there issued a **bluish-white fog**, which drifted around the incense burner. As Dumbledore gazed into the fog, a look of dissapointment crept across his face. He had fully expected to see an image of Lord Voldemort within the fog. Instead, he saw only symbols. Symbols he recognized as those of a **summoning** charm. _This was no horcrux_. Perhaps, though, it was meant to summon one.

Fawkes added a bit of explanation: "We went back to Hogwarts after that, for it was quite late. A **lengthy** series of **tests** revealed the **details** of the summoning charm. The incense burner, when lit under a full moon, should call to its location the horcrux. And so we waited, until the next **full moon**."

The memory then jumped to the scene of a brightly-lit open clearing. There was a thin cover of snow on the ground, and the full moon was high overhead. The air was still, and the only sound to be heard was the crunching of Albus's shoes upon the crusty snow. He placed the incense burner atop a large fieldstone, and took aim with the wand. **"Igneo!"**

The incense burner began to glow an odd shade of greenish magenta, or, as it is also known, peuse. A thin wisp of smoke drifted skywards, as Fawkes and Albus sat waiting for whatever would find them.

* * *

At the edge of the clearing there was a **rustling** of the **leaves**. Fawkes and Albus turned slowly towards the sound, and saw the small, graceful form advancing towards them. It was a **unicorn.**

All the **color drained **from Albus's face. This was **bad. **If for his horcrux Voldemort had indeed chosen **not only **a **living animal**, but of all creatures, the pure and innocent **unicorn**, which one must **never kill **lest one be **forever cursed**, then Albus was going to have to either **let the horcrux exist **and the _dark lord be immortal_, **kill** the unicorn and be **cursed**, or figure out some way to **extract** the bit of evil soul without **harming** the poor creature which contained it.

The first option was simply unacceptable. The unicorn-turned-horcrux would almost **certainly** run straight to _Voldemort_ and **alert** him to what Albus was doing. He **cringed** at the second option... was being **forever cursed** the price he would have to pay for his part in finishing the dark lord? As for the third, he had **no idea **how to proceed. In general, the way to destroy the fragment of soul within a horcrux is to destroy the **horcrux itself**. The unicorn was by now only a few feet away.

**"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"** It was the only thing he could **think **of at the moment. At least **this** way the unicorn could not **run off**, and he would have a moment to consider what to do **next**. _"petrificusss totalusss!"_, echoed a ghostly wail that seemed to come from somewhere above the unicorn, and then Albus heard a loud **"clunk" **beside him. He turned to see **Fawkes**, lying **motionless** on the **ground**. From above the unicorn there was now to be heard a _mirthless laugh_, a sound that was as much a signature of _Voldemort_ as was the _dark mark itself_. A thin white vapor was rising from the unicorn's fur, coalescing into a small, vaguely Voldemort-shaped cloud which sat astride the beast's back like a jockey.

Albus had expected a **trinket**, some **item **to be delivered to him, containing a more **inert** form of horcrux, as the Tom Riddle **diary** was. Instead, here was an **active** fragment of ghost, fully capable of **casting spells**. Worse, it was protected by the purity of the unicorn. He was **quite** unprepared for **this**. He remembered the last time he had faced Voldemort, in the Ministry of Magic. There, he had other Order members **with** him, and had used a suit of armor to block the Dark Lord's death curse. But now, there was only barren ground, an incense burner, and the now immobile Fawkes.

Raising his wand, Albus had intended to separate the bit of Voldemort ghost from the unicorn and imprison it within the incense burner. But it was already **too late**. _"Expelliarmusss!"_, echoed the ghostly jockey, and Albus felt the wand being **torn** from his hand. And he **knew **what was coming **next**. The Green Light, the Unforgivable Curse, the end of his days on this Earth, the **Avada Kedavra**.

What possesed Albus Dumbledore to do what he did next must** surely **have been the fact that there was absolutely nothing else that he **could** have done, except to have done **nothing**, to have been **killed** right where he **stood**, and to not only have failed to kill a part of Voldemort, but to have the dark lord alerted to the fact that his horcruxes were being targeted. Or **maybe** it was just **sheer blind panic**.

Albus **grabbed **his petrified phoenix by the **feet**, and swung him like a **baseball bat** at the one-seventh ghost of Lord **Voldemort**. Whatever he expected to accomplish by this, **I'll** never know. Strangely, even though it was only a ghost, only an insubstantial vapor, it was as though he had struck an **anvil**, and his hand **stung** from the recoil.

An instant later came the fiery **explosion**.

Albus awoke to find himself lying on the ground, his hand blackened and smoking. Fawkes was sitting quietly on the scorched ground, atop a small pile of his own ashes. Nearby lay the unicorn. **_Dead_.**

Sitting up, he surveyed the _morbid_ scene with his weary eyes, which soon brimmed over with **tears**. Tears of **shame**, for he had indeed killed a unicorn. Tears of **terror**, for he now would surely be forever cursed. And tears of **guilt**, for he had cost his poor phoenix Fawkes yet another of his lives. Albus **doubled over **in **pain**, a pain next to which the **Cruciatus curse **would have seemed like mere **scraped elbow**. A pain of the **heart**, a pain of the **soul**, a pain that felt like it was **ripping** him in two. **Screaming** like a **banshee,** he clutched at his heart, from which a grayish-white vapor was escaping. His soul had **indeed** been torn, and a part of it was **leaving** him.

Fawkes took **notice**, and quickly hopped over to **Albus. **And like a smoker taking a long drag from a pipe, the phoenix **inhaled** that vapor, taking into **himself** the piece of his friend's soul that had been ripped away.

As the two of them limped their way back to Hogwarts, Fawkes consoled his still-sobbing friend: "You did what you **had **to, Albus. You did something a good many would give their **lives** to do: you **destroyed** a part of the _Dark Lord_."

Albus Dumbledore said nothing for the rest of the trip back, although his tears had stopped. It was only as he was climbing into bed, and the phoenix was stepping up to his perch, that Albus turned to Fawkes with a look of curiosity. "You can **talk ?**"

And there ended the pensieve trip. Fawkes opened his beak and vacuumed up all of the shimmering silver mist fromt the big mixing bowl, restoring the thread of memory to his own mind.

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**Review response:**

**Knights of Ne:** I'm a Fawkes fan too. The fact that Albus chose a phoenix shows he had wisdom early on. What other creature could swallow the Avada Kedavra and live to tell the tale? I plan to reveal in detail the secret powers of phoenixes.

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And again, reviews are greatly appreciated.

Chapter 3 is mostly dialogue, and and explains in more detail what it means to be a phoenix.


	3. The Truth About Phoenixes

**Chapter 3: The Truth About Phoenixes**

(dialog note: R: ron, Hr: hermione, G: ginny, F: fawkes, H: harry.)

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Around the kitchen table stood Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, with Fawkes perched on the rim of the big mixing bowl. With his talon, he scooped up the memory he had just shared, and restored it to his own mind. And **then** came the **questions**.

**R:** "Swung you like a cricket bat, he did?"

**H:** "What was that big explosion?"

**G**: "Is the you-know-who horcrux destroyed now?"

Hermione, though, asked the first question Fawkes deemed worthy of an **immediate** answer: "How exactly **is** it you deal with... with **souls**?"

**F:** "That will require quite a bit of explanation. You see, the phoenix is a creature of the soul. This bird body (spreads his wings) is but a shell; We have no DNA. Instead, we pass on to the next generation a bit of our own souls."

**Hr:** "If each of your chicks gets some of your soul, wouldn't you run out?"

**R:** "Maybe they only give each chick a tiny bit of soul, and it grows."

**F:** "No, Ron, a soul cannot grow. And yes, Hermione, we would run out, except for one thing. This may at first sound quite macabre, but please hear me out."

Everyone was staring at Fawkes, with expressions that ranged from wide-eyed wonder to guarded suspicion.

**F:** "Into **each egg** must be imparted a **complete** soul. Therefore, before any pair of phoenixes can reproduce, they must possess between them enough _extra_ spirit to **build** that complete soul."

This statement clearly begged the obvious question: "How do they **get** that extra spirit?". And Ginny, realizing that Fawkes had paused specifically expecting someone to ask it, did so.

**F:** "We assimilate it from other beings."

**R:** "From **other**... ?"

**F:** "From those who have died, from those who have lost a part of their own soul, from ghosts..."

**R:** "**Holy Merlin!** You eat **souls**?"

**Hr:** "I thought I saw you eating birdseed."

**F:** "Such foods as birdseed sustain this **body**. But as I said, phoenixes are creatures of the **soul**. For** you**, as for all beasts of **DNA**, the **body** creates the **soul**. For**us**, the **soul** creates the **body**. This is why, when killed, we can rise from our own ashes. The soul survives, and promply creates another body to reside in. This is also why, before reproducing, we must consume spirit, build it on like blubber on a seal, bulk it up like cytoplasm in a cell; so that when that cell is split, there'll be enough in each."

**G:** "So that's why you've been acting like Dumbledore; you ate part of his soul?"

**F:** "I have recently feasted on three fragments of soul, and human soul at that; one half of Albus Dumbledore, and two sevenths of Tom Riddle."

**H:** "**Two** sevenths?"

**F:** "Remember our battle with the basilisk? After you destroyed the Tom Riddle diary, the portion of Tom's soul it contained did not simply vanish. **I ate it**."

**G: **"Won't the Riddle soul make you, um... **evil**?"

**F:** "No, it needn't effect me so. Phoenixes can encapsulate soul fragments as inert entities. Also, we can, if need be, mix, combine, and meld their spirit with our own, keeping what we find to be good, and letting the rest dissipate, to leave this earth behind."

**R:** "Holy crap!"

**F:** "In a manner of speaking."

The others smirked at Ron. Fawkes sat back on his perch, for by then, it was quite late. Off to their rooms went the residents of the Weasley house, and off to sleep.

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**Review reply**:

**mellyone:** This is a story I plan to continue with, and the chapters should be about one a week, or one every few weeks, depending on my schedule.

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**G:** "**Hey Fawkes**! You could eat **Moaning Myrtle**!"

**F:** "Ewww, **Blecch!**"


	4. The Rented Room

**Chapter 4: the Rented Room**

Harry goes off on his quest. Alone. But right off the bat, something **truly horrific** happens.

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Harry drifted off into a fitful sleep, and began to dream. In **one** dream, Hermione and Dobby were getting married. In **another**, Cho Chang was standing **naked** on the **owlery roof**, singing "God Save the Queen".

But then came a more **sinister** dream. Harry found himself in the House of **Black**, arguing with _Kreacher_, the house elf. "Your mistress is **not** to be **told** of this, do you **_understand_**?" Kreacher bowed obsequeously. "Yes, Lord, I do understand, but.. but.. **Please**, sir, I am sworn to tell her **everything. **I cannot **bear** to keep such a secret. Please don't make me!" "Very well.", Harry heard himself, and yet not quite himself, say. **"Obliviate!".**

With Kreacher lying unconcious on the floor, his memory of the last few minutes erased, Harry then saw ahead of him what for all appearances was a **blank wall**, which he tapped with his wand. A **small opening **appeared, into which Harry-and-yet-not-Harry placed a **gold ring**, into which was set an **emerald**. As he backed away from the wall, the opening **vanished**. He then turned and walked out the front door, and into the glare of the morning sun, and there ended the dream.

Harry awoke groggily, in a bed near a window with the morning sun streaming in. And for a few _dismal_ moments, he **forgot** where he **was**. For a few _dismal_ moments, he thought he was still at the **_Dursley's._** _Cursing_ the _glare_, he rolled over, sure that at any moment his _fat uncle _would be _bellowing_ at him to do some _stupid menial task_. Down the hall, muffled by the closed door, he could hear the sounds of people talking. What _horrid nonsense_ could they be babbling on about now? _Who cares?_ They probably have company over, that sounds like... like? Wait a minute? **GINNY! WOOHOO!**

Harry staggered to his feet, and opened the door. The smells of breakfast hit him square in the face, and led him **eagerly **down to the kitchen, where the rest of the household **already was**.

Soon he was **stuffing** himself with green eggs and ham, mildly-exploding mint chocolates, and barnacleberry cobbler. He was glad to be with his friends again, and soon conversation turned to **quidditch** and **joke spells**.

But before breakfast was over, his mood had already begun once again to darken. He knew he would have to go. His path was a dark and lonely road that lead _only to death_. Harry's or _Voldemort's. _Or both. The thought of endangering the others was, well, unthinkable. Harry could feel a** distance **forming; he was beginning to **pull away**, emotionally, that is, from his friends. He looked around the room, trying to see them all as just people. People he would have to leave **behind**.

He found himself **staring** at **Ginny**, and remembering their brief relationship. Seeing her as he came down the stairs, he had felt a warm light of happiness. But knowing he would be going **away** soon, that light was **quickly** turning into something **else. **_Sadness_. Horrible dark _empty_ sadness. With that thought weighing on his mind, the sight of the beautiful Ginny Weasley, standing there munching on a mint, made him want to **cry**. By now, Ginny had **noticed** that he was staring at her. She looked **deep** into his **wet green eyes **and she **knew**. She **knew** he was on the verge of tears, and she knew **why**. Harry saw his own sadness echoed in Ginny's eyes, and that just opened the floodgates. Not wanting to go to pieces in front of everyone, Harry slipped quietly out the door.

But Ginny **followed** him. "I won't pretend to know what you're going through, Harry. But is there anything **we** can do?" Harry turned around, his face sick with worry. "Just be **careful**, ok? If I survive, I'll come **back**... someday. I **know I'll **be in danger. That's **necessary**. But I don't want to get** you** killed." By that time, Ron and Hermione were watching, listening, from the doorway. "We do have a **few** days left, right?", Ron called out to him. "May as well **enjoy** them, mate." Harry agreed.

That afternoon, as the **lot** of them played a leisurely game of air-croquet in the treetops, Harry thought about that **weird dream**, and wondered if he should tell his friends. He decided **not** to. Since this was **his** quest, there seemed no sense in burdening **them** with such things. He spent the next few days enjoying the company of Ron, Hermione, and especially Ginny, playing exploding snap, careening wildly about on their brooms, and gabbing about all sorts of things; thinking of **anything but** his dismal destiny.

But during the **nights** he was packing to **go**.

And late one night, with his invisibility cloak on and his trunk charmed to weigh nothing, he hopped on his broom and **took off **into the dark night sky. He had written them a goodbye note: "I could not bear a long goodbye. I have an enemy to kill, and I'll count myself lucky if I live to see you again. Love, Harry."

* * *

The **first** thing he did was rent a **room** on **Diagon Alley**. A room with a **fireplace. **He was going to **need that **for his **research**. That, a crystal cauldron, and some floo powder, which he bought the next morning. His next trip was to **ChimneyCom**, for a subscription to the **World Floo Library**. They handed him a potion.

Back in his room, Harry opened the potion from ChimneyCom, and followed the **instructions**. "Pour the orange potion into your mouth, **gargle** it, then spit it into your **crystal cauldron**. This will enable you to connect to the World Floo Library via ChimneyCom. To use the WFL, gently **heat** the cauldron, and add a small amount of floo powder to the potion. This connection will consume approximately three grains of floo powder per minute, and whenever the potion turns orange again, you'll need to add some more floo powder."

"How was that **wall** opened?" Harry asked, as he thought of the wall in his dream, and gazed into the gently heated cauldron, which now hung from a swingbar over the fire. Within the now-clear potion there appeared **nine floating images**. Most were of merchants selling such things as see-thru-the-wall spells, and a few were for charmed disappearing doors. One that **caught his eye, **however, was a book labelled "**Identifying hidden holes**". Harry tapped the cauldron with his wand, pointing it at the book image. There then appeared a **text**, describing various ways of finding **hidden openings **in just about anything, and Harry spent the rest of the day reading it.

He was **ready. **Flying by night to the House of Black, Harry crept towards the spot where in his dream the **ring** had been stashed. In his mind, he pictured the **ring**, pictured that dreamed image of, um, **someone** placing it **into** the hole, and thought the words **"Prior Orofacto!". **And **there it was. **The brilliant emerald stone exuded a cool green **glow**. He reached right in and took it. Eventually, he expected, he would find out what it was **for**. If it was one of _Voldemort's horcruxes,_ he wanted to know for **sure**. And then he would **_destroy_** it.

The next morning, as he sat in the Three Broomsticks eating breakfast, he heard **murmurs** from another table. Something about the **Weasleys.** Something **bad, very bad**. Something about a **DEATH EATER ATTACK!** Harry's **heart leapt **into his throat, and **Harry** leapt onto his **broom**.

He arrived at the Burrow to find **aurors everywhere**. In the front yard there was a horse-drawn wagon, and upon it were **two coffins**. Several corpses bearing the _dark mark, dead death eaters_, littered the yard. Hermione's wizard gown was **burnt half off**, and her hair was **scorched**. She was holding Ron's hand as he lay on the porch in **bandages**. **Ginny** was standing in the doorway, a look of **absolute shock** on her face.

**Arthur** and **Molly** were **dead**.

Harry stood there, unable to accept the scene before him. "I'm **not seeing** this, It's **not real**, it **can't** be, no... just a dream... **wake up**, Harry.. its not real, its not... **NOOOOOoooooOO!**" Harry let out a **shreik** of **complete** and **utter horror**, and fell to the ground, crying, cursing loudly, punching the ground with his fist. **"Murderers! AAAAaaaaUUUUuuugh!"**

An auror tried to lead him onto the porch. But halfway there, he looked up at his grieving friends, and turned away in guilt and _self-loathing_. **Leaving** them hadn't made them safer at **all**. How could he face them **now**? Harry sat back down on the ground in **complete anguish**, which was only interrupted when a **wisp of smoke **a few feet away turned suddenly into a **blazing fire**. **Fawkes** had been killed **too (again!)**, but **he **was already flaming back to **life**. If only **people** could do **that**, Harry thought sadly. The horses began to walk, taking their lifeless passengers away. The survivors followed on foot, in silence.

After the funeral, back at the Burrow, after everyone else had gone inside, Harry sat alone on the porch steps, pondering a horrible conundrum. "_I Can't do it, I just can't do it.._", he began to mumble. "Can't do **what**, Harry?", a voice squawked behind him. "Can't **leave**, or can't **stay**?". It was **Fawkes**. Harry stared into space awhile before answering. "_Either..._"

The door swung open. It was Hermione. "We have sandwiches..." Harry slowly stumbled his way to the kitchen, where his friends were eating. Fawkes slowly pecked away at a slice of sesame-seed bread, waiting for **someone** to start the conversation, to **say** what needed to be **said**. But _no one _spoke up. They were going to need some **prompting**.

"Harry, I think the **others** have something to **talk **to you about", squawked the phoenix. He motioned first to Ron, who obligingly spoke up. "It looks like we're **all **going to be **in** this, whether **you**, whether **we** like it or **not**, so you might as well let **us help**." Hermione nodded. "You're going have a better chance **with** our help than **without** it."

Harry turned finally to face **Ginny**, who had gotten up from the table and was now standing **toe-to-toe **with Harry, her face an expression he could not quite read. "It **wasn't** your fault, you **do know **that, **right**?" Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. So Ginny answered what Harry couldn't quite say. "They would have attacked us whether **you** were here or **not**, Harry." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You didn't cause this."

"Ginny, I...", he stammered. "I don't even know _how_ to say..." Silence fell. But once again, his silence hid nothing from Ginny. "You're here **now**, **right**?" Harry nodded in silence. "And we're **all** going to be fighting _you-know-who_, **right**? as a **team**?" He nodded more slowly this time, but it was still a nod. Harry glanced about at Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Fawkes. "As a team. Together." And with that, the others moved in closer, and Harry found himself at the **center** of a **group hug**.

That night, **no one** went up to their rooms. **No** one wanted to be _alone_. Hermione teleported all their beds down to the living room, and set a bird perch on a nearby sidetable for Fawkes. They needed **time.** Time to **sort through** this _awful tragedy_. Time to **mourn the loss **of Molly and Arthur Weasley.

Unfortunately, they didn't** have **much time. **All too soon**, they would have to get going on their quest, even **with** this _horrible grief _still **tearing** at their hearts. Soon they would be hunting down the various fragments of _Voldemort_, and they would simply have to **muddle through **the** rage **and the** tears. ** **Together**.

* * *

**Review reply:**

**scyus:** Thanks. I thought it would be neat if they were. (creatures of soul, that is) I guess with over 200,000 fanfics, some will inevitably have the same title. Good one you've got going, too.

* * *

Within Harry potter there is a **deep dark secret**. One even **he himself**doesn't know about. But he **ought** to know. He ought to have figured it out **long ago**. Certainly **Hermione** should have realized it. But she hasn't. **No one **has. But in Chapter 5, **Fawkes** will figure it out, after Harry shows him the **emerald ring**.

* * *

"**Obsequeously? Kreacher?**", gawked an incredulous Hermione. "He was never anything but **rude** to** me**!"


	5. The Devil Within

**Chapter 5: The Devil Within**

**Deep** within Harry Potter, there lies a **dark secret**. One that has been with him nearly his **whole life**, and he **didn't know**. **No** one knew. **Now** it is **revealed!**

* * *

Gradually, over the next week or so, the abject horror of what had happened began to loosen its grip on those who had survived. They were still very much grieving, to be sure, but it was no longer the only thing on their minds. And what **else** was on their minds was, of course, the **war**. They simply **had** to get started, before **another** such horror happened.

Ron and Harry floo-powdered their way over to the **room** Harry had **rented** on **Diagon Alley**. And while **Ron** packed Harry's things into the trunk for him, **Harry** paid up with the landlord. He would not be staying here. But he left open his **ChimneyCom** account. He could connect to **that** from the** Burrow**.

And back **at** the burrow, Ron had a few **questions** about Harry's **things**. "I don't mean to **pry**, mate, but... Where did you get the **clear cauldron **and **green ring**?" Before Harry could answer, Hermione spoke up. "**Clear cauldron**? Does it have a **thick orange paste **in it?" The look on Harry's face told her that it **did**, and he opened up his trunk to **reveal** it. For a moment, Hermione forgot her grief, and was jumping up and down. "**Merlin sweet Merlin, we've got a World Floo Library account**!"

Ginny looked equally awed, but not about the cauldron. "Oh; my; **Gawd**, look at this **RING**!", she drooled, putting it on her finger and showing it around. Everyone gathered around to gawk, and Harry decided to **finally tell **them. And he told them **right then**. He told them about the **dream** in which Harry, and yet not Harry, stashed that ring in the wall at the House of Black.

**Ron** simply gaped in **awe** of the story. **Hermione** looked like she was trying to figure out what it all **meant**. But what Harry noticed **most** was the look on **Ginny's** face. It was **disillusionment**. She thought he had bought the ring for **her**. And seeing her **wear** it, Harry wished he **had**. But as **Fawkes** leaned in **closer**, the ring began to **glow**.

"Do you realize what it is you have found, Harry?", squawked the phoenix. Harry offered his guess: "A **horcrux**?". Fawkes gave a look of stern disappointment. "Harry, if you thought this was a horcrux, you should **not** have simply **reached in **and **taken** it. If it **were**, that might have been the **last** thing you ever **did**. No, this ring is **not** a horcrux, but it **is** meant to **detect** a horcrux." Fawkes moved away from, and then closer to, the ring that was still gleaming on Ginny's finger. "Since I **have within** me fragments of Tom's **soul**, not to mention a fragment of Albus's soul, I **am** a **horcrux**. Note how the ring glows more **brightly** the **closer** I am **to** it. It is **detecting** those **fragmented bits **of **soul**."

"It doesn't have much **range, does **it?" observed Ron. "We'd have to figure out some **other** way what **general areas **the horcruxes are **in**." "Some **other way**", beamed Herminone, hanging the crystal cauldron from the fireplace swingbar, "such as **this**." And with that, Hermione began what would become a ridiculously long marathon session on the World Floo Library.

Ron, fascinated with those little floating words and images in the clear cauldron, joined her, while Harry went to talk to Ginny, who had taken the ring off and chucked it back into Harry's trunk. "Ginny, I, um... about the ring..." But Ginny was **glaring** at him, showing him her ringless hand. "Its **in** your **trunk, ok**?" Harry reached into his pocket. "**Actually**, I have it right **here**. It looks a **lot better **on **you** than it does in my **trunk**."

But as Harry put the emerald ring back onto Ginny's finger, Ginny noticed something. "This thing is **glowing** again. And **Fawkes** is twenty feet **away**!" Harry smiled gently. "It **always** glows a **little**." Ginny shook her head. "No it **doesn't**, Harry. It wasn't glowing when I was putting it back in your **trunk**." Fawkes, who had heard the conversation, called out from his perch: "**Glowing** again, you say?" "Yeah, a **little** bit.." Harry took a few steps **towards Fawkes**, and **away** from **Ginny**, who **really** started getting curious now. "**Hey**, its **dimming out**!" Harry turned around to see. But as he walked back to Ginny, the ring began to **glow again**.

* * *

"Well, **well**", squawked the phoenix, soaring across the living room. "Now **this** could explain a **lot** of things. **Quite** a lot." "A lot of what?", asked Ginny. Ron and Hermione had by now noticed, and gathered around too. "A **lot**", explained Fawkes, "of what has **happened** to you over the years, Harry. Why you could **feel** it when the **dark lord **was angry. Why you've been **linked** to him. Why your **destinies** are fated for collision. Close your eyes, Harry, and tell me what comes to your mind."

Harry closed his eyes, and let his mind go out of focus. And there they were, Albus and Tom. "**Out of my way**, old man!", hissed Tom. "You're **dead now**, and there's **nothing** you can do!" "You've just proven there **is**", replied Albus. "And I'm going to **stay** in your way. This is** my bird**, and he's going to make **mincemeat** out of **you, Tom!"**

Harry opened his eyes wide, for he realized what it was he was seeing. He had just witnessed an argument between the fragments of soul within Fawkes. And he had seen them from Tom's perspective. Harry stood in silence, with the look of a deer caught in a spotlight. "**D.. Does this.. mean...**", he eventually stammered. "It does." confirmed the phoenix. "You are **linked to Tom**, and the **ring glows **when you are near, because there is a **fragment** of his **soul within **you." Everyone else gasped at this revelation.

**"Harry Potter, you are a horcrux!"**

Harry stood silent for a moment, trying to process this insane realization. Then he closed his eyes tightly, balled up his fists, and **screamed like a banshee**.

* * *

"Why don't we just **remove** that?", offered Fawkes. No one protested the idea, so Fawkes perched himself on Harry's shoulder, and bit down **(gently)** on Harry's ear. Harry's **eyes** went **wide** and **zombielike**, and a **ghostly glow **could be seen where Fawkes was biting. The phoenix had removed from Harry the piece of you-know-who's **soul**. There were now within Fawkes **three** fragments of voldemort, with three **more unaccounted **for, and **one final piece **within the body of the **dark lord himself**.

"How do you feel now, Harry?" asked the phoenix. "Um, kinda weird... but.. I feel like... like I'm finally at peace with myself."

* * *

In **Chapter 6: The Truth About Harry**, we get to see the **real** Harry Potter in action; that is, **just** Harry, **without** that alien piece of someone else's **soul stuck inside **him.

Also, they go hunting as a group. To finish off the dark lord, piece by piece.

* * *

**Review Reply:**

**Prongs: **I suppose all that coding (**bold** for loud, _italics_ for sneering, and underline for whispered, etc., with the explicit declarations done programming-style)** was **a bit complicated. So I've gone back to chapter 1 and gotten rid of, well, **some** of it. And tried to **simplify** the **rest** without losing **too** awful much of what I was trying to **do** with it. Now its all just plain old emphasis, except for the italics which are still sneering. I hope I've struck a decent balance now.

* * *

And any other hints anyone has, tell me. I **do** want to learn how to write better. I want to learn how to write things people will want to read.


	6. The Truth About Harry

**Chapter 6: The Truth About Harry**

* * *

They spent the rest of the day in front of the **fireplace**, staring into that **crystal cauldron**, scouring the World Floo Library for information on how to **track down **magical **artifacts**.

"**Ooo**, check **this** out!", blurted Hermione, pointing out the article she had just found. "Given **one** item a person has hidden, this potion can be used to find **other** items that the **same person **has **also** hidden." Ron's eyes widened. "**Hey**, that's **exactly** what we need; we **already have **the **ring**.**" **All eyes turned to the **ring**, which was again on Ginny's finger. Making a **fist**, Ginny **held high **the emerald ring, her eyes narrow, her teeth bared, and growled out the proclamation: "**Voldemort..Shall..Die!**"

**Unfortunately**, the potion turned out to be **quite** a difficult one to make. Their **first** attempt created instead a **green goo**, which promptly **evaporated**, leaving the cauldron **empty**. And their **second** attempt created (to everyone's mouth-watering dismay) **chicken soup**.

As the five of them sat at the table, enjoying a dinner of chicken soup, Ron had an idea: "I bet we'd have better luck if we had Harry's **potions book**, the one **Snape** wrote all his **notes** in."

Hermione cringed at the suggestion. She had **never** been too fond of **that** book. But she knew Ron was right. "**Ok**", began Hermione, "We'll need a **plan **if we're going to go and get it. It's **not **like we can just **apparate right in**." "Brooms?", suggested Harry. Ron shook his head. "Nah, thats a long way to fly on brooms." A **smile **crept across **Ginny's **face. She had a **plan**. "The **Shrieking Shack!** We can apparate into the shack, and then follow the **tunnel** back to campus. Ron nodded. "Good **idea**, sis. How **about **it, Harry?"

But Harry seemed not to be paying attention. "**Huh**? Oh, yeah, the shrieking... What about the **Whomping Willow**? It's gonna **clobber** us." Ginny smiled knowingly. "Already **thought **of that. One petrificus totalus and it won't lay a **twig** on us." "Ok...", Ron continued. "We apparate to the shack, tunnel to campus, sneak into the Room of Requirement, grab the book, and retrace our steps back here. Sound about right?" Hermione, yawning, noted what **time **it was. "Sounds like a **plan**. But we'd better get some **shuteye **if we're gonna pull it off..."

And with that, they all flopped over, closed their bleary eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

And for **once**, Harry slept an** easy, peaceful **sleep. **No** nightmares, **no** visions of evil, **no** Dark Lord calling to him or chasing after him. The one dream he **did** have was of **Ginny,** standing atop a hill, looking down the other side, the side Harry could not see, and he stood wondering what it was she was seeing. And when he woke the next morning, he sat wondering what it** meant**.

"**Hey Harry**, are you **ready yet**?", a voice called out to the not-quite-awake Harry Potter. "**Wha**? Yeah, the tunnel, where's my **wand**? Who has the **inviso-thing**?". Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "Are you **ok**, Harry? You seem **not quite yourself **lately." Fawkes, finishing off the last of his breakfast of sunflower seeds, clarified things. "**Actually**, 'Mione, for the first time since his infancy, he **is** himself. **Just** himself, **without** the influence of the Dark Lord."

**A/N:** I keep wanting to say that Fawkes "**smiled**". But he **can't**, since birds don't have **lips**, they have **beaks**!

* * *

Wands in their robe pockets and the invisibility cloak over Ron's shoulder, they all joined hands (and wings), and with a loud multiple **"crack", **appeared inside the Shrieking Shack. "**Lumos!**" Into the tunnel they went, with Hermione leading the way. And after a long, cramped hike through the muddy, cobwebby passageway, they could see **daylight**. And **squirming roots**. They were beneath the Whomping Willow. "petrificus totalus", whispered Ginny, touching her wand to one of the roots. And huddled together under the invisibility cloak, they all made their way up to the castle.

Harry touched his wand to the locked outside door. "Aloharama", he whispered. Nothing happened. Hermione gave it a try and it opened. They found the hallway where the Room of Requirement was, and chanted "We need Snape's potions book". And they were **in**. Harry quickly found the book, which was right where he had left it.

"Look at all this **cool junk**!", gawked Harry, picking up a green lampshade. "As long as we're here, let's have a look at some of it." Ginny's eyes went wide with the panicked look of someone whose owl was about to fly straight into a plate-glass window. "**Harry**, that thing might be **cursed**!", she warned. Harry, once again, seemed lost in a fog. "Why would anyone want to curse a **lampshade**?", he asked nonchalantly, placing it on his head like a hat. "**Stop it, you didn't even use Finite Incantium; put it back!**", hissed Ginny with a severity that would have put Professor **MacGonagal **to shame. **That **got his attention. Harry placed the lampshade **exactly **as he had found it, and, book in hand, headed for the door.

On the way out, Harry wondered why his lock-picking spell hadn't worked. That was a bit worrisome. Worse yet, when they reentered the tunnel, with Harry leading the way, he realized that his wand **("Lumos!") **would not even cast **light**. So Hermione lead the way again, and Ginny brought up the rear, removing the petrificus totalus from the willow before moving on down the tunnel.

* * *

Back at the Burrow, Hermione began to read Snape's voluminous notes for hints on making their tracking potion work, while the others tried to figure out why Harry's wand didn't seem to be working. "Doesn't look **cracked** or anything...", observed Ron, examining the wand with a magifying glass.

Hermione examined the wand also, and performed upon it every diagnostic spell she could think of, which was quite a few. "I don't think there's anything wrong with the **wand**. Harry, I haven't actually seen you do any magic since Fawkes removed your bit of Voldemort." "Have you tried flying?", suggested Ginny, with a growing look of concern. "**That** doesn't even **use** a wand."

Harry walked straight over to his broom, held out his hand, and with his usual quidditch confidence, commanded the broom: "**Up!**".

**Nothing happened**.

Harry **sank down **onto the **floor**, suddenly realizing what this **meant**. **His **magic, **his **powers, they were **never his at all**. They were **Voldemort's. **The only magical powers **Harry **had were those the **Dark Lord **had accidentally **given **him. And when Fawkes removed that bit of Voldemort's soul, his magic went **with** it. For a time, he just sat there in silence, his face **blanched white**, staring into space in complete and utter shock, wearing the look of a doomed, defeated man. And for a time, **no **one said a **word**. No one knew **what **to say. They had never seen Harry like this. He had in the past shown anguish, rage, and sadness; but **never **surrender. He looked as though he was ready to **simply give up**. on **everything**.

Finally, hesitatingly, he opened his mouth to speak.

"I... I'm a **squib!**"

* * *

"**Fawkes! What happened!**" Bellowed a suddenly-angry Ginny. "You **took out **his **magic**, now he's a **_squib!_**"

"He needn't remain as such.", squawked Fawkes in a tone **so **remeniscent of Dumbledore that Ginny **immediately stopped **looking as though she wanted to kill him. "Harry, the choice is your **own**. You can be **yourself**, the boy you were **born **to be, **without **the **emotional horrors **of the _dark lord_, but a squib. **Or**, you can be the boy-who-lived, the marked man, the one who can kill he-who-must-not-be-named; the only Harry **we've** ever **known**."

Harry looked blankly at Fawkes for a moment. But once he realized what the phoenix was telling him, he had no doubt of his decision. "Yeah, I think I **was** better off **with** it. **Even with **the evil parts. Without it, everything I've learned is pointless. Sock it** to **me, Fawkes; make me a **horcrux** again." Fawkes perched once more on Harry's shoulder, and with a gentle bite to the ear and a grayish mist, transferred back into Harry the fragment of Voldemort's soul he had taken out the previous day.

"Ok mate, how do you feel **now**?", asked Ron. Harry looked around at his friends, who were all staring expectantly at him, and he paused for a moment, wondering how long to draw out their wait.

"**_Hmhmhmhuhuhuhahahaaa Haaaaaa!_**", he **cackled evilly**.

Everyone took a step back, their eyes wide with fear, their wands at the ready. "I'm **kidding**, I'm **just kidding**!", reassured Harry. "I feel like **myself** again; just the way I'm **used **to feeling." Zing, Pow, Bzroompft! "**Aaaaack**!" Harry tumbled over backwards as three jinxes were hurled at him; one turned his hair purple, another gave him elf ears, and the third one missed. "Don't **scare **us like that!", admonished Ginny, wagging her index finger at him. But she was laughing. "You're gonna wear those ears until **morning**, elfie."

* * *

Later that night, the five of them sat gabbing in the living room. Ron had opened a bag of **chocolate snitches**, which was **quite **a fun snack. Basically, you just release them into the room, where they fly around and you catch them with your mouth as they go by. "You **know what?"**, said Harry, returning from the thought he had seemed lost in, "I think it did me **good** to have my horcrux removed for a day." "How's that?", squawked Fawkes from near the ceiling, divebombing after a chocolate snitch. "Now I **know**.", Harry explained. "Having been **without **the horcrux for a full day, I **know **which parts are from **me**, and which parts are from **Voldemort**. And if he starts **sending **me thoughts or anything, I'll **know **it; I won't **mistake his **thoughts or feelings for my **own**."

Fawkes landed on the arm of the sofa. "Gained a bit of **wisdom**, you did.", he squawked muffledly, munching on a snitch. "I suppose that **would **tend to be a rather life-changing experience." "**Indeed**", agreed Harry, smiling like a Buddha. It had been a long day, and he was near sleep. But he had one last comment to make before drifting off. "Far Out."

* * *

In Chapter 7, they track down another horcrux (only 2 left, and then Lord V himself). And **Fawkes meets the hen of his dreams! ** Oh, and ch7 is going to take awhile, it needs major emotional factor, and I don't have any time right now.

* * *

Review replies:

**Bleah**, there **weren't **any this time!


	7. Get yer motor running

**Chapter 7: Get yer motor running (a.k.a. The Call of Hiasobe, part 1)**

**Bacon**! I smell **bacon**! Gotta be **bacon**, only one thing smells like bacon and that's **bacon**! Ron opened his eyes and hungrily sniffed the heavily scented morning air. "**Bacon**!", he blurted out droolingly, waking Hermione and Ginny. Harry was already awake, and was aiming his wand into the iron cauldron, blasting blue flames at a sizzling mass of bacon. "**Bacon**, anyone?" Hermione stood up, yawned, and stretched, and Ron, watching her stretch, forgot for a moment that there was bacon cooking for breakfast. Ginny peered into the cauldron. "I think it needs something, Harry." And from the cupboard she levitated half a dozen eggs and, blasting the shells off of them in midair, sent them crashing like missiles into the cauldron.

Fawkes took one look at breakfast, made a face that clearly read "Blucch!", and went outside to scratch the ground for seeds and grubs. The humans, however, absolutely devoured the stuff. And after breakfast, there was no need to clean out the cauldron, because bacon grease was one of the ingredients needed for the magical items tracking potion. And, with Severus Snape's potions book by her side and the cauldron still warm from breakfast, Hermione began the complicated sequence of stirring, heating, and adding just the right amounts of just the right substances at just the right time to make the potion work this time. Ron stayed by her side, handing her the vials she called for, and reading from the potions book when she was busy watching the potion itself for color changes. And by midmorning, the potion was done.

"I think I have it.", announced a cautious Hermione. The potion was glowing a light blue, and looked rather like a sky of puffy clouds. Now for the ring. Ginny removed it from her finger, and, suspended with a thread, lowered it into the potion. The light blue glow darkened, the puffy clouds turned gray, and forked lightning flashed inside the cauldron. Ginny then pulled the ring out, washed it, and put it back on her finger. The potion itself began to thicken, clumping into nine separate jellylike pieces. Ron handed Hermione nine vials, and into each one she placed a quivering clump of potion, and capped each with a cork. Once in the vials, the now nine separate potions developed like film in a darkroom, each one clearly depicting a scene, each scene showing a different item being hidden.

But seeing a scene doesn't mean that you know where it is or how to get there. Some they already recognized: The cave Harry and Dumbledore had gone to, the incence burner in the tombstone, and the ring in the wall at the House of Black. One vial depicted the Tom Riddle diary, another showed a unicorn which the Dark Lord was tortuously infusing with a piece of his own soul.

The remaining four vials showed scenes that **nobody **recognized.

And so without delay, it was back to the World Floo Library. Placing the first vial inside the crystal cauldron, Harry asked the question: "Where is this?" The scene inside the vial was echoed in larger form within the crystal cauldron. And then, like a camera zooming away from a close-up shot, it showed successively wider areas, until included within it were familiar landmarks, making it clear where to find the place, and hopefully the item itself. "**Permanente**!", ordered Harry, dropping into the cauldron a piece of blank parchment. And with a dry, crinkly sound, the scene floating within the crystal cauldron crystallized onto the parchment.

After repeating this procedure for each of the four mystery vials, the five friends began to review their treasure maps, and plan their next trip. There were four artifacts to retrieve, two of which would, hopefully, turn out to be horcruxes.

The first artifact looked like a Rook. A chesspiece, that is, made of marbly green stone, and was shown being hidden down in the dungeon of a small castle in Scotland.

The second item looked like a thimble, except that the tip was sharpened to a point. It was being hidden beneath a chicken coop on a farm in the Yorkshiredales.

If the first two items seemed within easy reach, the other two more than made up for it in difficulty, for the third item was located in what looked to be a labyrinth of secret chambers beneath the stage of Kiyomizu Temple in Kyoto, Japan. As for the final hidden object, it seemed absurd to think there was any way to get it, and it made them wonder how on Earth any witch or wizard could have possibly put it there, for it was not on Earth at all. The last artifact was hidden deep within the sea of Europa, moon of Jupiter.

* * *

Well, the sea of Europa would have to wait; for now, there were other, closer places to go. And hopefully, they could find what they needed right here on Earth. The farm in the Yorkshiredales being the closest, it seemed the logical choice for their next trip. "So Fawkes, can you apparate us out to the Yorkshiredales?" inquired Hermione. Fawkes shook his head. "A bit far, especially with four passengers." Harry glanced forlornly in the direction of the broom closet. "So I guess brooms are out of the question." This time it was Ron who came up with a better idea. "Trundles!", he blurted out. "That old car we flew to Hogwarts in, remember that thing?"

And so as morning turned to afternoon, brooms in hand, they apparated out to the Shrieking Shack. Cruising high above the Forbidden Forest, they searched for some sign of the vehicle. "I hope Trundles is still running", hoped Ron. "I hope it'll agree to our trip", hoped Harry. "I hope we can find the thing", hoped Ginny.

"Beep!" The sound echoed up through the forest canopy as Trundles noticed its former passengers overhead. Doing a classic Immleman, it rose to meet them in midair, and it was as though Trundles already knew what they had planned, for the doors were open and in they all piled.

Trundles was in remarkable shape, considering the complete lack of maintennance over the last several years. That is, it hadn't fallen apart yet. And as afternoon turned into the twilight of evening, the car and its five passengers set off for Diagon Alley, where Trundles spent the night in a wizard garage getting some much-needed work done, while its passengers spent the night in the nearby Flying Dutchman.

Then off to the Yorkshiredales.

* * *

As it was less conspicuous, and as this was a trip through the countryside, they went muggle style, driving rather than flying. And they actually followed the roadways. As the suburbs gave way to rolling fields of green, the horcrux hunters noticed a change in the air. It was cooler, and it smelled cleaner. The remainder of their drive passed in what could be termed a magical muggle moment, with the radio playing songs like the Beatles' "Day Tripper", and the wind blowing through their hair. The only nonmugglesome thing about their appearance was that Fawkes had perched himself out front like a hood ornament, his wings spread out to catch the sun and the breeze. Big red barns and expansive green pastures full of cows dotted the roadsides, and Ron and Hermione were so busy laughing it up and enjoying the scenery that they didn't even notice Harry and Ginny snogging in the back seat.

That's right, snogging; once the two realized that the whole reason they broke up was rubbish (Remember, Harry had left so as not to endanger Ginny, only to find out she was in grave danger anyway), their lips had met again, Harry's tongue exploring those little ridges along the roof of Ginny's mouth.

And soon the farm they were headed for swam into view. And quite a farm it was, with horses, cows, ducks, chickens, and all the other critters one would expect of such a place. They drove up to the farmhouse to find the farmer and his wife sitting on the front porch removing the strings from several bushels of string beans.

* * *

"We're tourists from London", lied Hermione, producing a fake camera she had conjured during the drive. "Mind if we take some pictures of the animals?" The farm couple nodded. "Take all the pictures ye want.", the old lady added. And then she noticed the bird atop Trundles' hood. "That's a Japanese Flame Macaw.", lied Hermione. The farmer's wife responded with raucous laughter. "A Japanese Flame Macaw? Is that what you're calling yourself now, Fawkes?" Fawkes did a double take. "**Bernice?**" A gleam in Bernice's eyes brought instant recognition. "Fawkes the phoenix, Dumbledore's magical accompaniament!", remenisced Bernice. "Albus and I went to school together; how's the old geezer doing these days?"

A tear escaped Fawkes' eye. "He's passed on." The laughter faded from Bernice's tone, to be replaced with a resolute look. "Tell me he died fighting for what he believed in." Fawkes nodded. "Caught the avada kedavra right between the eyes. From a death eater." Bernice nodded, her eyes closing in respect for the dead.

"Stupid Snape..." fumed Ginny.

Bernice looked quizzically at Ginny, who was standing along with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, their arms crossed, their eyes squinting in a dark sulk at the thought of Severus Snape and his killing of their Headmaster Dumbledore. "Snape killed Albus? That doesn't sound right, they were friends."

* * *

Ginny Weasley hadn't really shown it, but ever since the death of Albus Dumbledore, she had been smoldering with a quiet rage. She wanted blood. Snape's blood. More than that, Ginny's fantasies had turned to thoughts of torture. The killing curse, of course, would be too easy on him. Crucio him into insanity. Use Prof. What-was-his-name's forgetting jinx to rip out his memories, one by one, until he didn't even know that his name was Severus. No, let him keep his memories, so he'd know **why** she hated him. Chain him to a tree and beat him to death with her fists.

Now, at the mention of his name, her anger reached the boiling point. "**They were not friends!** Snape was just using him, and Dumbledore was foolish to trust that **lying sneaking bastardly death-eating backstabbing phony dark-worshipping evil dog-turd, Sever-his-head Snape the snake!**" All heads turned to gawk at Ginny, who, with her teeth bared and her fingers flexed like claws, looked like a bengal tiger about to rip an antelope to shreds.

"Actually, Ginny", began Fawkes, "there is something I haven't told you about Severus..." But Ginny started screaming again. "**Like what, he's a donkey in disguise? Half-blood Prince my ass! I'll drink half his blood and smear the other half all over!**" Everyone was, at this point, backing away from the raging redhead. Everyone, that is, but Fawkes, who was looking into her eyes with a soulful deep stare that let her know that it was Albus's soul, or at least half of it, peering out at her from behind those obsidian bird eyes. Ginny's rage turned to bewilderment, and she was ready to listen.

* * *

A/N ok, in chapter 8, fawkes will tell about Snape and why he killed Bumblebore.

Oh, and those hens are on this farm, somewhere, I just seem to be having difficulty

getting around to them. It's not like I actually have an outline for this story.

Whatever happens happens, ok? (Note: its called "attention deficit disorder") blah blah blah...

yeah, I know its been awhile since ch6. I haven't given up on this...


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